' 


Ye  tantinel*,  that  for  a  thousand  years 
Have  watched  this  peaceful  ralle.tf  .  .  . 


eee  p.  25 


THE    ARMY    OF    DAYS 


AND  OTHER  VERSE 


BY 

JAMES  HENRY  MAcLAFFERTY 

Author  of  "My  Soul's  Cathedral," 
"Light  Through  the  Valley," etc. 


BOSTON 

SHERMAN,    FRENCH   6-  COMPANY 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911 
SHERMAN,  FRENCH  &•  COMPANY 


If  this  be  song,  then  would  I  bring 
A  tribute  in  the  song  I  sing 
To  one  who  in  the  singer's  life 
Is  every  day  a  Friend  and  Wife. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE    ARMY  OF   DAYS 1 

MINISTERING    ANGELS ,  3 

MY    CRAVING .     .     .  4 

TO   A  DAISY 5 

CARISSIMA 6 

ROSES 8 

DEFEAT .9 

THE  BLENDED  NAME 10 

SUNSET  ON  REDONDO  BEACH 11 

FRIEND 12 

FORGIVING 15 

THE  OAKLAND  HILLS 16 

THE  FLY-CASTER'S  ELYSIUM 17 

LOVE    OF    NATURE 18 

IN  THE  STILL  NIGHT  WATCHES     ....  19 

COLUMBIA    RIVER 20 

A  DAY  WITH  THEE 21 

RECOMPENSE 22 

OUR  WORDS  ARE  WINGS 23 

JUDGE    NOT ...  24 

THE  SEQUOIAS 25 

HOPE 28 

THE  HOUR  DIVINE 29 

THE  STAR  OF  HOPE 31 

THE    POET'S   MISSION -    ...  32 

BUILDING    HOPE  33 


PAGE 

ALCATRAZ,  THE  ISLAND  PRISON     ....  34 

JESUS  THE  CHRIST 35 

THE  OLD  ENGLISH  LAVENDER  MAN     .     .  36 

CALIFORNIA,   BRIDE  OF  THE   SUN     ...  37 

AGE 38 

THE    GREATEST 39 

MY  SONG  OF  THEE 41 

HOME 42 

PUGET  SOUND 43 

FREEDOM 44 

MOUNTAINS 45 

SUNSET   IN    IDAHO 46 

GREAT  SALT  LAKE 47 

HOPE 48 

LIFE         49 

THE  DESERT 50 

I    KNOW    NOT 54 

SOLACE        .55 

ARISEN         56 

THE    WILL 57 

THE  CITY  LOVED  AROUND  THE  WORLD    .  58 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  BELL 59 

THE    SHASTA    DAISY 66 

THE    SONNET 67 

PURIFICATION 68 

I'LL  SMILE  MY  GRIEF  AWAY 69 

ONE   DEAR  DAY 70 

INFINITY 71 

GOD   IS    LOVE 73 

YEARS  .75 


PAGE 

THE   FLOWER   IN  THE   WOOD 76 

AT   MIDNIGHT     . 77 

TO   A   PORTRAIT 78 

HAST  THOU  GONE  FROM  ME? 79 

ETERNAL    LIFE 80 

TEMPTATION 81 

A    VALENTINE 82 

WINGS  OF  GRIEF 83 

MY    FRIEND    .  84 


THE  ARMY  OF  DAYS 

They  come  with  a  measured,  martial;  ilg&tth 
Through  a  deep  defile  in  the  barrier  hills,: 

With  a  kindly  face  or  a  mien  I  droadVr, ,  ;  ! ' 
No  rift  in  their  ranks  the  rhythm  stills — 

And  these  are  the  days  confronting  me 

This  side  the  Hills  of  Eternity. 

They  swing  and  fling  with  never  a  halt 
Or  a  shortened  step  or  a  broken  line. 

They  march  and  march  with  never  a  fault 
Though  the  storm  may  howl  or  the  sun  may 
shine. 

And  I  must  meet  them  one  by  one 

And  conquer  each  ere  the  setting  sun. 

'Gainst  some,  with  courage  as  strong  as  steel, 
I  throw  my  strength  to  win  the  fight; 

From  others  shrink  and  backward  reel, 
My  courage  weakened  ere  falls  the  night ; 

With  a  deeper  pain,  with  a  grief  more  real 

If  I  lose  from  the  lack  of  a  high  ideal. 

And  on  and  on  they  sweep  along, 
Each  day  unmatched  in  all  it  bears ; 

An  army  of  days  that  thousands  strong 
Must  test  the  armor  my  spirit  wears. 

For  filled  with  struggle  are  some  of  these 

While  others  tempt  to  seductive  ease. 


Steadfast  I'll  stand  with  the  knowledge  shod 

T.hat  the  man  who  wins  against  baser  things, 
In  .his  s'ciiil,  is  a  man  more  like  his  God 
.Than   he  *who    at   ease    to   the   tide's    turn 

•swings. 

Ah,  thanks  to  Thee  as  I  strive  the  while, 
That  the  days  of  life  march  single  file! 


MINISTERING  ANGELS 

Ye  thoughts  of  mine  that  are  not  of  earth 

And  hopes  possessing  me  born  above, 
That  temper  passions  of  evil  birth 

And  hide  my  hatreds  in  lasting  love ; 
Softly  swing  on  thy  silken  strings 

That  seem  secured  in  empyrean  blue — 
The  realm  the  skylark  seeks  as  he  sings 

Ere  yet  the  sun  signals  home  the  dew. 

'Tis  ye  my  Ministering  Angels  are 

In  silent  night  or  in  stress  of  day ; 
Unerring  guide  as  the  Northern  Star, 

Un-numbered   as    is   the   Astral  Way. 
Overspreading  me  like  the  arch  of  Heaven, 

In  heat  of  conflict  affording  rest ; 
In  every  good  thou  dost  place  a  leaven 

And  soothe  as  once  did  my  mother's  breast, 


[  3  1 


MY  CRAVING 

It  may  not  be  for  me  to  glorify 

And  hallow  in  the  hearts  of  those  to  come 
The  fair  spots  of  this  goodly  earth,  as  some 

Have  done ;  or  nature's  charms  to  magnify 
By  painting  pleasant  pictures  out  of  words. 

Though  be  it  far  from  me  to  idly  say 
It  would  not  be  a  rare,  delightful  thing 
If  God  did  honor  me,  that  I  might  sing 

Of  these,  for  those  along  the  future  way — 
With  song  as  liquid  sweet  as  any  bird's. 

I  yearn  for  power  like  this.     Not  out  of  pride, 
But  that  of  nature's  lessons  I  might  teach, 
How  God  through  nature   everywhere  doth 
reach 

The  human  heart  and  good  from  ill  divide, 
By  song  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

But  more  than  this  I  crave  from  Thee,  O  God ! 

I  ask  the  power  to  soothe  the  human  heart ! 

To  know  its  innermost — its  secret  part — 
To  ease  the  soul,  to  rest  it  when  the  rod 

That  heated  white  sears  often  and  again. 


TO  A  DAISY 

Darling  of  the  poet's  breast; 
Jewel  set  in  nature's  crest; 
Saucy  in  the  summer  shower, 
Half  a  gem  and  half  a  flower. 
Frightened  when  my  bungling  foot 
Stumbles  near  thy  magic  root. 

Here  I  find  thee  quite  alone. 
Hast  thou  error  to  atone? 
Bowing  meekly  to  the  sun, 
What  small  evil  hast  thou  done? 

Time  will  come  that  nodding  head 
Bows  upon  its  mother  bed. 
Time  will  come  when  thou,  as  I, 
Must  find  time  withal  to  die. 
Ere  the  day  when  this  needs  be, 
Daisy,  Sweetest,  teach  thou  me. 


CARISSIMA 

What  is  it  that  over  me  stealing 

Like  sweet,  dreamy  music  at  night, 
Sends  rest  to  my  soul  and  a  sealing 

From  scenes  that  have  troubled  my  sight; 
That  lends  for  my  load  an  endurance, 

That  opens  my  eyes  so  they  see 
Through  the  lowering  clouds,  sweet  assurance? 

'T  is  because  I  am  clinging  to  thee. 

Why  is  it  that  when  in  my  thinking 

The  vision  possesses  me  quite 
Of  the  font  drying  up  where  I'm  drinking, 

The  noonday  becomes  as  the  night? 
Not  the  night  when  the  stars  are  above  me, 

But  night  when  their  radiance  is  gone, 
And  the  fear  that  you  no  longer  love  me 

Makes  me  doubt  there  can  ever  be  dawn. 

O'er  the  sands  of  the  desert  I've  stumbled, 

With  a  glaze  in  my  eyes,  and  athirst; 
Seen  the  hopes  of  the  years  as  they  crumbled, 

While  I  gazed  on  mirage  that  accurst 
Seemed  a  cool,  shady  spot  in  the  distance — 

Oh,  I  longed  for  the  shade  of  a  tree — 
It  was  then  that  I  called  for  assistance 

And  the  succor  I  found  was  in  Thee. 


As  a  buoy  to  one  that  is  sinking, 

As  a  life-line  thrown  into  the  sea, 
As  to  lips  that  are  parched  is  the  drinking 

Of  water,  so  art  Thou  to  me. 
Thou  art  surcease  from  all  of  my  sorrow, 

A  resting  from  all  of  my  pain, 
My  hope  for  the  coming  to-morrow 

When  we  shall  no  longer  be  twain. 


[7] 


ROSES 

Was  ever  a  year  like  this  for  roses? 

Did  ever  the  birds  seem  half  as  gay? 
And  is  there  a  spot  where  nature  poses 

As  glorious  in  her  wanton  way? 

Why  a  poet's  heart  must  break  into  singing 
From  sheer  delight  at  the  lavish  spread ; 

While  his  fancy  starts  to  rhythm  a-swinging 
And  songs   are  strung  on  a  golden  thread. 


DEFEAT 

I've  fought  the  fight  against  my  foe  and  lost. 

A  foe  not  human  but  of  circumstance. 

For  weeks  contested  stubbornly  advance 
He  made,  nor  counted  as  too  great  a  cost 
To  give  my  life  to  stay  his  hand.     But,  crossed 

In  all  my  purposes,  his  sharpened  lance 

Has  pierced  my  armor  and  in  dev'lish  dance 
He  has  his  heel-marks  on  my  shield  embossed. 

But  though  I've  suffered  physical  defeat 
'T  is  not  defeat  the  craven  coward  knows. 
And  though  my  heart  and  body  may  be  sore 
Yet  I  have  still  the  fortitude  to  meet 
Whatever  storm  across  my  pathway  blows — 
To  win  against  this  foe  and  many  more. 


THE  BLENDED  NAME 

"  He  that  hath  seen  Me  hath  seen  the  Father." 

When  the  often  self-sought  battle  rages ; 

When  I  vainly  wield  a  faulty  sword ; 
Jesus,  miracle  of  all  the  ages, 

Through  the  ages  still  to  be  adored, 
Beholding  thee  in  raptured  contemplation 

Silences  the  clamor  of  my  life, 
And  in  these  moments  rare  of  divination 

Farther,  fainter,  vanishes  the  strife. 

And  then  a  light  suffusing  all  my  being, 

A   wondrous    light    that   blinds    my   mortal 

sight, 
Reveals  the  will  of  God  in  thee  decreeing 

The  reconciling  evil  with  the  right. 
I  stand  uncovered,  filled  with  awe  before  Him ; 

I  bare  my  soul  to  Him,  The  God  That  Is, 
And  then,  as  I  with  all  my  soul  adore  Him, 

Unconsciously  I  blend  thy  name  in  His. 


[10] 


SUNSET  ON  REDONDO  BEACH 

Was  heaven's  clouded  canopy  ere  yet 

Bedecked  with  half  the  glory  sight  can  reach, 
As  here  I  stand  upon  Redondo  Beach 

And  watch  thee   as   thou   fadest,   thou   sunset 

Of  June's  last  day?     O,  that  I  might  but  get 
From  Him  who  made  thee,  power  to  tell  how 

each 
Of  yonder  liquid  amber  clouds  doth  teach 

My  soul  to  worship  and  to  ne'er  forget. 

I  gaze  enraptured — All  surpassing  sight ! 

The  dome  of  heaven  is  deep,  volcanic  red — 
And  now  the  Sun  is  gone  and  for  the  night 

Beneath  Pacific's  sombre  floor  his  bed 
Has   sought.     See!     Slowly  pales   the   red   to 

rose, 
And  timid  out  the  east  the  first  star  shows. 


[in 


FRIEND 

TO    L.    F.    C. 

I  call  thee  Friend  because  the  word  is  large, 
Perhaps,  beyond  all  words  that  may  denote 
The  ties  men  have  assumed  among  themselves. 
A  greater  word  is  Friend  than  husband,  wife, 
Than  father,  mother,  brother,  sister,  son 
Or  daughter,  even  as  the  base  laid  deep 
Beneath  the  surface  and  whereon  is  held 
A  towering  pile  must  needs  be  sterner  stuff 
And  more  enduring  than  the  ornament 
That  gilds  the  pinnacle  to  charm  the  eye. 
For  with  the  base  secure  the  dome  is  held 
O'er  all,  and  in  return  protects  it  from 
The  ravage  of  the  elements.     And  so 
With  flawless  foot  the  mass  remains  as  one 
United  whole  to  please  the  sight,  as  well 
As  serve  its  own  intended  use. 

And  thus 

Neath  all  relationship  there  must  abide 
The  quality  of  friendship,  else  the  tie 
Sustained  can  be  but  in  the  name  alone. 
Had  Cain  been  friend  to  Abel  then  his  hands 
Had  not  been  crimsoned  in  his  brother's  blood. 
For  bond  of  brotherhood  spared  not  the  life 
The  bond  of  friendship  would  have  saved.     A 

man 

Will  spare  his  friend  although  he  take  the  life 
Bestowed  upon  another  by  the  one 
Who  gave  himself  his  being. 
[12] 


More  than  this. 

If  friendship,  true  comraderie,  cement 
The  tie  assumed  in  wedlock,  nought  but  death 
Dissolves  the  union,  if  at  all.     For  some 
Who  bear  this  bond  believe  and  have  within 
Their  souls  the  witness  that  it  goes  beyond 
The  ending  of  their  earthly  days  and  joins 
Them  closer  in  the  Heavens. 

The  Master  when 

He  taught  of  love  took  on  His  lips  the  word, 
"For  greater  love  hath  no  one,"  so  He  spake, 
"That    a    man   will    give   his    life   to    spare    a 

Friend." 

And  so  is  not  the  tie  that  must  exist 
To  make  all  other  earthly  ties  endure 
Of  deep  significance?     Nor  should  the  word 
Be  lightly  spoken  or  the  bond  assumed 
Unthinkingly,  for  with  it  must  there  be 
The  burden  of  responsibility. 

And     yet,     remembering     this,     I     call     thee 

"Friend." 

To  walk  with  thee  is  deepest  joy  to  me. 
I   love   the   things    that   thou   hast   loved    and 

share 
With    thee    the    spiritual    pleasures    few    have 

known. 

In  thy  companionship  have  they  become 
To  me  like  physical  reality. 
[13] 


In  that  rejoicing  thee  is  my  delight, 
And,  greater  proof  of  friendship,  in  the  pain 
Thou  sufferest  lives  my  deepest  sorrow.     So 
Like  Ruth,  I  say  as  truly  unto  thee, 
"Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  nor  return 
From  following  after  thee." 


[14] 


FORGIVING 

To  still  the  throb  of  an  aching  hurt 

Forgive  the  one  who  made  it. 
For  a  garden  may  be  but  useless  dirt 

Till  the  hand  of  a  man  shall  spade  it. 

The  deeper  the  furrow  the  richer  the  yield 

Of   the    golden-headed   grain. 
But  the  harvest  is  not  till  the  furrow  is  healed 

Nor  the  blessing  till  after  the  pain. 


[15] 


THE  OAKLAND  HILLS 

O  the  Oakland  Hills  that  back  the  town 
With  canons  deep  that  up  and  down 
Are  filled  with  tempting,  shady  nooks 
That  lure  the  body  as  tempting  books 
May  lure  the  mind;  and  on  whose  breast 
The  whole  of  a  man  may  find  his  rest. 

From  Berkeley's  oaks  to  nestling  Niles 
A  score  of  Mediterranean  miles 
Do  call  and  call,  enchant  and  hold 
The  miser  who  loves  a  poppy's  gold. 
For  this  is  wealth  no  man  can  spend 
And  this  is  gold  no  man  can  lend. 


[16] 


THE  FLY-CASTER'S  ELYSIUM 

Where  the  tipsy,  tattling  Truckee 

Tumbles  downward  to  Nevada, 
Where  the  dreams  of  being  lucky 

Like  the  sails  of  an  Armada 
Drift  across  the  heavens  filled  with  boundless 
blue: 

Where  the  foxy,  far  fly-caster 

Loses  thought  of  church  and  pastor — 
There's  Elysium  for  such  as  I  and  you. 

Just  a  mile  of  flashing  river, 

A  sublime,  unending  poem ; 
Every  inch  a  blissful  shiver — 

Just  like  heaven  when  you  know  'em — 
And  with  every  inch  a  pipe-dream  comes  to  me. 

So  away  I  drift  from  troubles 

As  the  Truckee  floats  its  bubbles 
To  the  desert,  playing  hookey  from  the  sea. 

O  the  mad-cap  merry  Truckee! 

O  you  two-pound  speckled  beauty ! 
How  I  love  you  when  you're  plucky! — 

With  my  fly  I  cast  off  duty. 
O  the  Ananias  Club  at  close  of  day, 

Where  each  weary,  angling  liar, 

Spreads  his  legs  before  the  fire, 
Reeling  yarns  about  the  ones  that  got  away. 

[17] 


LOVE  OF  NATURE 

Of  all  the  loves  that  time  has  ever  known, 
Of  all  the  loves  that  time  will  ever  bring, 
What  purer  or  what  more  exalted  thing 

Than  in  the  love  of  nature  may  be  shown? 

A  passion  out  of  which  the  sting  has  flown, 
That  makes  the  heart  continually  to  sing! 
Its  memory  can  never  come  to  ring 

Again  in  hollow  souls,  to  changes  prone. 

Handmaid  of  God! — Like  God  Himself — that 

all 

May  love  devotedly  with  passion  deep, 
What  nobler  altar  can  I  find  for  thee 
Than  here  among  the  Cascade  Mountains,  tall 
And   towering,  where   great  Columbia's   sweep 
Ten  thousand  years  has  been  and  yet  will  be? 


[18] 


IN  THE  STILL  NIGHT  WATCHES 

In  the  still  night  watches 
While  mine  eyelids  sleep, 

Jesus,  Blessed  Savior, 
Still  thy  vigil  keep. 

Thou  hadst  thy  Gethsemane 

While  the  others  slept, 
Thy  soul  suffered  anguish, 

Thine  eyes,  too,  have  wept. 

Deepest  human  sorrow 
Knew  its  day  with  thee; 

Now  this  desolation 
Hath  o'erwhelmed  me. 

By  thy  grief  and  passion 

Thou  the  crucified 
Hast  provided  comfort, 

Hast  my  need  supplied. 

Smooth  my  fevered  pillow, 

Calm  my  fears  unrest, 
Touch  my  troubled  forehead, 

Jesus  give  me  rest. 


[19] 


COLUMBIA  RIVER 

Columbia,  mighty  pulse  in  empire's  vein, 

Who,    throbbing    through    a    thousand    cen 
turies  night 
Dost  roll  serene,  majestic  in  thy  might 

Before  my  vision ;  To  the  solemn  strain 

Of  thy  deep  rhythm  doth  my  heart  attain 
A  depth  of  reverence  and  a  clearer  sight. 
I've  known  thee  near  thy  source  where  thou 
art   slight, 

I've  seen  where  thou  dost  nourish  fertile  plain ; 
Where  through  deep  mountain  chasms  thou 

hast  worn 

Thy  still,  persistent,  unrelenting  way, 
And  made  my  home  where  thou  dost  offer  all 
To  swell  and  sweeten  broad  Pacific,  shorn 
In  part  of  savor  yielding  to  thy  sway 
Then  binding  thee  forever  in  his  thrall. 


[20] 


A  DAY  WITH  THEE 

The  fondest  dream  a  day  ago 
This  dying  day  has  made  to  be, 

And  peace  is  in  my  heart,  although 
An  ache  is  there  that  saddens  me. 

For  that  I  dreamed  could  live  one  day 

And  now  its  life  has  passed  away. 

But  there  is  left  within  my  heart 
And  o'er  my  life  an  influence  sweet, 

That  always,  ever  will  be  part 
In  every  problem  I  may  meet ; 

And  purer,  stronger,  will  I  be 

Because  of  this  day  lived  with  thee. 


[21] 


RECOMPENSE 

Two  souls  apart  may  journey  on  life's  road, 
Be  tossed  about  on  life's  tempestuous  sea 
And  sore  beset  of  all  the  ills  that  be 

May  call  aloud  for  succor  from  the  load. 

Yet  into  many  years  God  hath  not  showed 
Each  to  its  mate.     And  then,  as  if  decree 
Of  heaven  had  willed  each  hears  the  other's 
plea 

And  each  finds  in  the  other  its  abode. 

Ah,  blissful  recompense  for  all  the  years 

In  those  first  hours  when  these  two  souls  have 

met! 

Ah,  wealth  of  treasure  that  doth  sure  atone 
In  rubies,  diamonds,  pearls,  for  all  the  tears 
That  each  hath  shed  in  all  the  past — and  yet 
Ah,  greater  wealth,  to  never  be  alone. 


OUR  WORDS  ARE  WINGS 

Our  words  are  wings  that  waft  away 
But  part  of  what  the  soul  could  say, 
And  carry  to  the  listening  ear 
Imperfectly   the  soul's  good  cheer ! 
So  one  who  with  a  soul  would  speak 
The  language  of  the  soul  should  seek. 

For  daily  barter — marts  of  trade — 
The  words  we  use  were  really  made ! 
But  when  we  rise  to  higher  things 
And  words  we  use,  their  crippled  wings 
Can  scarce  transmit  the  soul's  desire 
Or  bear  the  heat  of  heavenly  fire. 


[23] 


JUDGE  NOT 

What  do  I  know  of  the  man  I  may  meet? 
What  of  my  life  knows  the  man  on  the  street? 
Yet  on  his  acts  in  stern  judgment  I  sit, 
He,  in  his  turn  sits  in  judgment  on  me. 
Both  of  us  blindly  ignore  holy  writ ; 
Purblind  am  I  and  as  wilful  is  he. 

Weak  is  the  folly  that  makes  me  forget 
Failings  that  be  in  my  conduct,  and  yet 
Whispering  secretly,  hid  from  his  sight, 

Blacken  his  name  in  the  mind  of  a  friend. 
Robbing  a  man,  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 
Stealing  a  treasure  I  never  can  spend. 


THE  SEQUOIAS 

TO    THE    SEQUOIA    CLUB,    SAN     FRANCISCO 

Ye  Sentinels  that  for  a  thousand  years 

Have  watched  this  peaceful  valley,  once  again 

I  find  a  happy  quiet  'neath  your  shade. 

I  hide  among  you,  far  removed  from  strife 

Where  men  are  seeking  higher  yet  to  rise 

On  ladders  built  of  fallen  hopes  of  men; 

To  plant  their  fortresses,  impregnable, 

Upon  foundations  laid  by  other  hands ; 

And  yet,  can  only  flourish  there  until 

Some   victor,    stronger   than   themselves,    shall 

cast 
Them  down. 

And  here,  old  friends,  give  me  to  learn 
The  secret  of  the  power  that  made  you  great. 
The  patient  willingness  you  have  to  grow 
So  slow,  so  sure.     That  makes  you  envy  not 
The  upstart  vine  that  shoots  to  greater  height 
Along  your  towering  forms  in  one  short  year 
Than  you  have  risen  through  decades  of  years. 

And  give  me,  too,  the  kindliness  that  you 
Have  shown  in  lending  aid  to  weaker  things. 
For  I  have  coveted  your  silent  strength ; 
The  power,  rooted  deep  in  gentleness, 
That  makes  you  willingly,  alike  the  home 
Of  singing  birds,  or  sternly  to  defy 
The  beating  storm. 

[25] 


And  teach  me  how  I  may 
Transform   life's    discords   into   harmony, 
As   passing   through   your    arms,   the   howling 

gale 

Hath  blended  into   soothing  melody. 
I,  too,  would  know  the  magic  and  translate 
To  music  all  the  discord  of  my  life. 

Like  you,  deep-rooted  in  the  earth,  may  I, 
Well-grounded  in  enduring  faith  and  hope, 
Grow  far  above  the  turmoil  and  the  strife 
And  breathe  a  purer  atmosphere,  as  you, 
Who,  lifting  fronded  tops  above  this  vale 
See  not  alone  your  own  environment 
But  all  the  broad  expanse  of  Heaven  as  well. 

Departing  now,  though  longing  yet  to  stay, 
I  go  to  meet  again  the  things  that  test 
The  truth  of  all  that  I  have  learned  this  day. 
And  in  the  trial  I  shall  not  forget 
The  peace  that  here  abideth,  and  perchance 
Again,  awearied  by  the  conflict,  may 
Invoke  the  solace  found  within  your  shade. 
Unless,  ah  yes,  unless  before  that  day 
I  pass  beyond  the  need  of  that  you  teach. 
Or,  too,  unless  some  pigmy  shall  have  laid 
A    sharpened    blade    against    your    furrowed 
sides ; 


[26] 


Unless  devouring  flames  shall  desecrate 
You,  Temple  of  the  Living  God,  or  some 
Wild  torrent  sweeping  down  this  quiet  vale 
Shall  cut  the  ground  from  under  you,  as  do 
The  baser  passions  surging  through  the  lives 
Of  men,  so  often  lay  them  low. 


[27] 


HOPE 

For  this  shall  compensate  in  full  all  bitterness 
to  me, 

That  the  ills  I  may  have  suffered  shall  enable 
me  to  see 

The  joy,  the  cheer  there  is  in  life  since  bitter 
ness  is  gone; 

That  the  womb  of  blackest  midnight  holds  the 
glory  of  the  dawn. 


[28] 


THE  HOUR  DIVINE 

I  love  the  dawning  of  these  perfect  days 

When   come   the   first   pale   tints   that   open 

wide 

The  womb  of  light,  and  glow  the  while  the  rays 
Of  splendor   search   the   hidden   nooks   that 

hide 

The  last  of  lingering  night.     I  cherish,  too, 
The     drowsy     mid-forenoon     when     nature 

seems 

Asleep ;  when  drunken  honey-bees  are  through 
The   morning's   first   debauch,   and   in   their 
dreams. 

I  love  the  glory  of  the  mid-day  hour 

When  shadows  least  abound,  and  when  the 

source 
Of  life  and  light  in  his  stupendous  power 

Has  reached  the  zenith  of  his  daily  course; 
When  man,  infinitesimal,  attests 

His  insignificance,  and  ceases  toil. 
When  in  some  cooling,  friendly  shade  he  rests, 

And    prostrate    draws    his    strength    from 
brother  soil. 

And  yet,  while  loving  all  of  these,  I  know 

The  sanctuary  of  a  perfect  day 
Is  when  the  setting  sun,  descending  slow, 

Has  followed  far  adown  his  golden  way 
[29] 


And  hid  his  face  beneath  the  western  sea. 

For  this  unlocks  the  secret  inner  shrine 
Where  Thou  art  waiting,  O  Dear  Heart,  for 
me. 

Ah,  this  of  all  the  hours,  the  Hour  Divine. 


[30] 


THE  STAR  OF  HOPE 

I  cannot  know  what  destiny  has  stored 

Within  her  sealed  and  secret  vault  for  me; 

I  yet  must  scale  the  towering  crags,  and  ford 
The  swollen  torrents  ere  is  found  the  key. 

I  cannot  know  to-day  the  reason  why 

Seems  lost  the  battle  fought  through  many 
a  year; 

But  choosing  brightest  star  in  yonder  sky 
To  guide  me  on,  I  still  shall  persevere. 

The  potion  I  may  quaff  that  seems  to  be 
The  draining  to  its  dregs  a  bitter  cup, 

Compels  me,  even  in  that  act,  to  see 

The    Star   of   Hope.     ...     To    drink   I 
must  look  up. 


[31] 


THE  POET'S  MISSION 

Exult,  O  Poet!     And  have  no  dread 

That  thy  spirit-body  shall  leave  the  earth. 

Though  thoughtless  tongues  shall  have  called 

thee  dead, 
For  thou  shalt  awake  in  a  second  birth. 

For  God  hath  placed  it  within  thy  power 
To  strike  the  chords  on  prophetic  lyre ; 

To  sing  the  songs  that  in  some  far  hour 
May  nerve  a  soul  to  again  aspire. 

To  thee  is  given  a  vision  past 

The  mocking  furrow  we  call  the  grave ; 
Reflecting  out  of  the  future's  vast 

Unknown  the  hope  that  the  weary  crave; 

To  warn  the  soul  that  afar  hath  strayed, 
Yea  more,  to  speak  in  a  nation's  ear. 

To  stand  when  opposite  thee  arrayed 
Is  a  mighty  host,  and  to  know  no  fear. 

To  love  a  friend  and  to  wrong  no  foe ; 

To  smite  in  mercy,  in  mercy  just; 
To  stand  in  front  of  the  foremost  row 

And  to  stand  steadfast  as  a  leader  must. 


[32] 


BUILDING  HOPE 

There  is  no  base  whereon  to  build 
The  hope  for  future  days, 

Save  memory  by  the  past  instilled 
In  all  its  devious  ways. 

And  even  though  the  past  has  held 

So  little  of  the  true, 
Yet  on  its  memories  we  weld 

Our  hope,  and  start  anew. 


[33] 


ALCATRAZ,  THE  ISLAND  PRISON 

Set  midway  'twixt  the  land  and  land 
What  spot  a  gloomier  aspect  has 
Than  the  sombre  walls  of  Alcatraz? 

Her  rock-hewn  sides  like  barriers  stand 
To  cleave  the  surge  of  Pacific's  roll, 

While   the  man  held  there   at  the  law's   com 
mand 
Feels  the  sob  of  the  tide  within  his  soul. 


[34] 


JESUS  THE  CHRIST 

We  sing  of  the  fame  of  the  prophets  and  sages, 

The  heroes  of  war  and  the  heroes  of  peace; 

Of    men    who    have    lived    and    have    wrought 

through  the  ages — 

The  ages  to  come  shall  their  lustre  decrease. 
But    one    name    shall    live    with    the    centuries 

passing, 

While  fame  of  the  others  is  fading  away. 
Its  glory  increasing,  its  splendor  surpassing 
The   fame  of  the  mighty — They  live  but   a 
day. 

The    King    of    all    Kings,    little    Bethlehem's 

Jesus ; 
The  Chief  of  Ten  Thousand,  foretold  from 

afar; 

The  Lion  of  Judah  whose  gentleness  frees  us, 
Nor  faileth  but  lures  like  the  light  of  a  star. 
'T  is  He  untold  millions  have  loved  with  devo 
tion; 

'T  is  He  they  will  cherish  while  time  shall  en 
dure. 
The  knowledge  of  Him,  as  the  deeps  hold  the 

ocean, 

Shall    cover    the    earth    and    shall    hold    it 
secure. 


[35] 


THE   OLD   ENGLISH   LAVENDER   MAN 

English  Lavender!     Ten  cents  a  pack! 

Just  buy  one — surely  you  can ! 
You  won't  want  your  money  back 

From  the  Old  English  Lavender  Man ! 

He  stands  through  each  day  near  the  wall 
Of  a  building  that  pierces  the  skies; 

As  I  pass  I  can  hear  his  clear  call 

As  he  stares  with  his  poor  sightless  eyes. 

I  wonder  if  deep  in  his  soul 

Are  visions  of  hopes  and  of  fears ; 

And  if  his  lost  sight  were  made  whole 
Would  he  love  what  he  now  only  hears? 

I  wonder  if  Christ  passed  this  way 

And  pressed  the  moist  clay  to  those  eyes, 

Would  he  cease  to  remember  some  day 
Or  forget  petty  cares  that  arise? 

Here's  the  money  !     I'll  willingly  pay  ! 

But  the  lavender  I  shall  not  need. 
The  lesson  you've  taught  me  to-day 

Is  so  plain  I  may  run  as  I  read. 


[36] 


THE  GREATEST 

When  this  age  passes  into  the  ages 

And  thy  splendor,  dear  land  of  my  love, 
Hath  vanished  as  mist  from  the  ocean 

Dissolves  in  the  boundless  above ; 
When  the  full  of  the  greatness  we  cherish 

Hath  rounded  resplendent,  complete, 
Shall  the  grandeur  of  thee  be  forgotten, 

Or  thy  memory  with  fame  be  replete? 

'Twill  not  be  the  prosaic  record 

Of  marvelous  miracles  wrought ; 
'Twill  not  be  the  history  of  battles 

Thy  death-daring  heroes  have  fought, 
Nor  story  of  cunning  invention 

That  dwells  like  a  charm  over  thee 
For  the  millions  that  live  in  the  future 

And  the  millions  beyond  them  to  be. 

Ah,  nobler  than  all  of  thy  warriors, 

Beloved  o'er  the  best  of  thy  sons 
And  famed  above  those  that  are  mighty 

Of  all  thou  hast  borne  are  the  ones 
To  be  heard  through  the  march  of  the  ages 

As  voices  that  float  from  the  past, 
To  pen  on  unperishing  pages 

That  fame  of  thy  glory  may  last. 


[39] 


Dear  Land,  lest  thy  name  be  forgotten 

There  one  day  must  spring  from  thy  side 
Some  clear-voiced,   some   sweet-singing  Homer 

In  whom  to  the  full  shall  abide 
The  reflection  of  all  of  thy  glory, 

The  music  of  all  of  thy  birds, 
And  whose  song  shall  so  perfectly  blend  them 

Thy  memory  shall  live  in  his  words. 


[40] 


MY  SONG  OF  THEE 

No  Heathen  Nine  shall  aid  my  rhyme, 
No  oaten  pipes  shall  guide  my  singing; 

No  dancing  feet  shall  mark  the  time 
Or  tune  the  tribute  I  am  bringing 

Daily,  hourly  unto  thee. 

It  needs  must  be  majestic  measure 
Drawn  from  source  of  endless  treasure 
If  't  would  half  way  voice  the  pleasure 

Thou  hast  given  to  life  for  me. 

For  down  Life's  River  I  was  swept, 
Nor  could  I  turn  against  its  power. 

Anon  upon  its  brink  had  wept 

My  saddened  soul  through  many  an  hour 

Because  denied  one  vital  need. 

And  so  I  knew  not  where  to  turn  me, 
Feared  I  friend  as  foe  would  spurn  me, 
Doubted  I  did  God  discern  me 

Or  to  my  despairing  heed. 

'T  was  when  my  hope  had  all  but  gone, 

My  faith  become  the  faintest  glimmer ; 
When  seemed  had  come  the  last  pale  dawn- 
Yea,  hope  was  faint  and  faith  was  dimmer- 
Then  it  was  a  hand  touched  mine. 

.   .   .  Saved  was  I !     And  so  the  praises 
Sung  of  thee  must  be  in  phrases 
Only  holiest  Angel  raises, 
For  I  found  my  hand  in  thine. 
[41] 


HOME 

It's   Home   though   it   has   but   four   brown 

walls, 
A  window  that  looks  in  a  quaint  back  yard, 

A  table,  some  books,  and  a  couch  that  calls, 
That    dissolves    my    care    when    the    days    are 
hard. 

A  window  that  stares  at  a  wall  close  by. 
When  I  hide  me  there  I  am  not  aloof, 
For  over  head,  through  a  pane  in  the  roof 

I  can  see  a  million  miles  of  sky. 


[42] 


PUGET  SOUND 

O   the  burnished  bays   and  the  winding  ways 
That  as  one  make  Puget  Sound ! 

0  the  opal  seas  with  their  guardian  trees — 
There  the  soul  delights  abound! 

1  may  sail  and  sail  to  the  uttermost  sea 
I  may  scale  to  the  sheerest  height, 

But  no  depth  nor  height  can  contain  for  me 
Such  a  transcendental  sight. 

For  thy  morn's  a  song  and  the  whole  day  long 

Has  the  note  of  a  clear  refrain, 
While  the  Silver-side  on  the  buoyant  tide 

Has  returned  to  his  home  again. 
And   thy   stars   grow   pale   near   the   peak   of 
night 

While  the  matins  of  countless  birds 
Chant  the  death  of  gloom  in  the  birth  of  light 

With  a  medley  surpassing  words. 

In  thy  emerald  deeps  are  the  pictured  steeps 

Of  Olympic's  jagged  crest 
And  the  soft  facades  of  the  blue  Cascades 

Float  a-slumbering  o'er  thy  breast 
With  their  tops  made  white,  like  an  altar  cloth, 

By  the  drifted  and  chastened  snow, 
And  as  free  from  stain  as  the  plighted  troth 

That  the  purest  of  maidens  know. 

[43] 


FREEDOM 

Done   am  I  now  with  all  cant  and  all  sham 
ming; 

Free  evermore  from  the  worship  of  creed. 
Riven  in  twain  is  the  barrier  spanning 

The   sigh   of   my   soul   and  the   help   I  may 

need. 
Banished  the  fear  of  my  ignorance  born 

And  aglow  is  the  night  with  the  glint  of  the 
morn. 

Days  have  slipped  past  me  that  once  were  to 
morrows, 

Yesterdays  all,  be  they  joyful  or  sad. 
Dead  is  the  past  and  the  haunt  of  its  sorrows, 

Sing,  O  my  Soul  in  thy  trust  and  be  glad. 
The  bitterest  test  thy  novitiate  ended, 

The   mystery   of   peace   with   thy   future   is 
blended. 


[44] 


MOUNTAINS 

The  man  who  has  gazed  at  a  mountain 
And  felt  no  response  in  his  soul 

Had  never  a  drink  at  the  fountain 

That  mortals  may  taste  and  be  whole. 

It  is  that  which  is  silent  remaineth, 

For  a  sound's  but  a  sigh  then  *t  is  gone ; 

And  in  mountains  methinks  God  explaineth 
The  riddles  that  vex  us  anon. 

Give  me  but  a  glimpse,  then  withdraw  it, 
Yea,  deny  me  forever  my  sight; 

For  the  signal  that  came  when  I  saw  it 
To  the  depth  of  my  soul  flashed  a  light. 


[45] 


SUNSET  IN  IDAHO 

I  saw  the  day-sun  seek  his  rest  to-night 
'Neath  mountain  peaks   in   southern  Idaho, 
And  turn  to  purple  with  his  dying  glow 

Their  covering  mantle  that  so  deep,  so  white, 

Reflected  back  his  glory  to  the  sight. 

The   massive   tiers   of   cloud-banks   like   the 

snow 
Were  glorified,  and  every  shade  I  know 

Bedecked  them  as  adorned  for  this  great  rite. 

O,  ultimation  of  a  perfect  day, 

Though  death-song  of  a  dying  day  thou  art, 
How  infinitely  better  in  this  way 

That  day   should  end,   since  daylight  must 

depart ! 

And,  O,  that  my  life's  day  could  ever  be 
And  end  as  full,  as  glorious  as  with  thee! 


[46] 


GREAT  SALT  LAKE 

Great  Inland,  Salty  Sea  a  mile  in  air 

Earth  has  no  other  jewel  such  as  thou! 
And  gazing  round  me  from  thy  center  now 
At  day's  expiring  hour  a  sight  so  fair 
Is  spread  before  me,  there  can  none  compare 
Unto  it.     Held  aloft  by  mountain's  brow 
Thy  glassy  surface,  ne'er  disturbed  by  prow 
Of  craft  of  trade,  into  the  sky  doth  stare 
Reflecting  back,  as  might  a  mirror's  face, 
The  storm-scarred  mountains  planted  on  thy 

shore 

All  painted  wondrously  by  hand  divine 
In  every  color  known  to  human  race. 
Thou  hast  not  nor  canst  have  forevermore 
An  outlet  save  to  mount  the  hot  sunshine. 


[47] 


HOPE 

Hope  never  lives  in  the  valleys 

Nor  despair  at  the  crest  of  a  peak. 

Paupers  do  not  live  in  chalets 

Nor  strength  find  a  home  in  the  weak. 

But  Hope  may  go  into  the  valleys 
And  rescue  the  prey  of  despair. 

Paupers,  that  were,  may  own  chalets — 
With  Hope  even  weaklings  may  dare. 


[48] 


LIFE 

O  Life,  them  greatest  mystery  of  time, 

Less  understood  than  is  Eternity ; 
Thou  mystery  of  mysteries  sublime, 

I    know   why   light    or   darkness   more   than 

thee. 
Thy    quickening     came    within    my    mother's 

womb, 
Thine  ending  shall  not  find  me  in  the  tomb. 


[49] 


THE  DESERT 

In  places  man  has  called  the  Solitudes 
There  God  abideth  most.     And  in  the  place 
Where  men  do  most  abide  too  often  God 
Seems  least  to  be.     He  knew  because  his  path 
Had  led  through  busy  marts,  through  jostling 

crowds 

As  well  as  through  the  forests  where  the  leaves 
Were  whispering  secrets  of  the  universe. 
His  soul  had  lost  itself  in  reverie 
Beneath  the  forest  kings  in  whose  rough  sides 
Were  etched  the  history  of  a  thousand  years. 
Nor  was  his  spirit  stranger  to  the  thoughts 
That  flood  the  soul  three  hundred  leagues  from 

spot 

Where  man  may  set  his  foot  upon  the  land. 
There  had  he  gazed  about  him  and  beheld 
The     throbbing     of     a     million     white-plumed 

breasts, 
Had  known  the  power  beneath  each  one  and 

felt 

It  surging  in  his  own.     "  'T  is  here,"  he  said, 
"Where  God  has  placed  his  throne  upon  the 

earth. 
He   rides   the  deep,   and  those   who   come  not 

here 
Deceive  themselves  to  say  they  have  communed 

with  Him. 


[50] 


And  so  through  sea  and  forest  grew  his  soul 
In  closer  union  with  The  Infinite. 
His  lot  was  cast  where  but  a  line  did  part 
The  virgin  forest  from  earth's  mightiest  sea, 
And  loving  both  he  felt  that  naught  of  earth 
Could  share  with  them  his  love. 

'T  was  then  the  hand 
Of  duty  beckoned  him  and  for  a  space, 
His  steps  turned  toward  the  east,  he  left  the  sea 
And  wood   and   for   the   first   time   found   the 

place 

So  magical,  so  silent  and  so  vast 
'T  were  fitted  well  for  God's  retreat  where  He 
Might  come  alone  to  meditate ;  to  plan 
New  worlds,  to  fashion  all  minute  detail 
Pertaining  to  them  and  perchance  again 
Debate  creation  of  that  species  which 
Of  all  His  works  has  sought  to  thwart  His  will. 
This  place  men  call  the  Desert  and  at  first 
Turn  back  afraid.     And  so,  he,  too,  as  blind 
To  mystery  returned  to  sea  and  wood 
Content. 

But  soon  there  crept  into  his  soul 
A    something   vague.     At    first    he    knew    not 

what 
It  meant.     The  whispering   of  the  trees,  the 

weird 

Complaining  of  the  sea  had  ceased  to  sate 
[51] 


His  longings  and  half  aimlessly,  half  led, 
He  scaled  the  high  Sierras  where  he  saw 
The    Desert    and    he    knew    from    whence    had 

come, 

Unheard  except  within  his  inner  soul, 
The  voice  that  fed  continually  his  unrest 
And  heeding  naught  beside  he  pressed  him  on 
Toward  the  Mystic  East. 

And  there,  was  placed 

Within  his  hands  a  key  that  he  might  loose 
The  latch  that  bars  a  man  from  his  best  self; 
That  places  in  his  grasp  not  only  square 
And  rule  wherewith  to  measure  earthly  things 
But  instruments  geometricians  use 
When     leaving     earth     to     compass     heavenly 

spheres. 

'T  was  on  the  Desert  first  he  knew  himself, 
Took  heed  of  potency  of  silent  power 
And  learned  that  greatest  wisdom  need  not  be 
Articulated  from  the  lips  nor  flow 
From  facile  pen.     The  Desert,  nude  of  all 
Affording  comfort ;  scorched  and  seared  anon 
By  burning  shafts  yet  saturated  with 
A  presence  he  had  never  felt  in  height 
Or  depth.     Where  every  color  eye  hath  known 
United  into  perfect  harmony 
Has  exquisitely  painted  cliffs  of  all 
Fantastic  shapes  of  frowning  battlements, 

[52] 


Of  castles  turreted  against  the  sky 

And  from  whose  tops  one  sees,  his  eye  deceived, 

Mirage  of  shady  forests,  running  streams, 

Of  crystal-breasted  lakes  beside  whose  shores 

Are  nested  sleeping  villages ;  and  yet 

May  be  reflected  from  the  real  as  are 

The  highest  aspirations  and  ideals 

That  tantalize  the  soul  and  float  before 

It's  eye  a  shimmering  goal. 

And  here  like  One 
Who  went  alone  into  the  wilderness 
,He  found  ere  he  returned  with  lagging  step 
The  peace  that  silence  whispers  in  the  soul 
To  feed  the  fagging  sinews  of  resistance. 


[53] 


I  KNOW  NOT 

I  know  not  where  nor  how, 

I  know  not  why  nor  when, 
I  only  know  when  life  is  done 

That  I  shall  live  again. 
And  though  I  cannot  see, 

In  faith  I  can  believe 
That  I'll  partake  of  holier  joys 

Than  any  I  shall  leave. 

And  so  I'm  walking,  Lord, 

A  prayer  in  every  breath, 
The  path  that  leads  up  mountains  steep 

Or  through  the  vale  of  death. 
At  times  o'er  desert  waste, 

With  weary,  burning  feet. 
At  others,  thanks  to  Thee,  dear  Lord, 

By  waters  still  and  sweet. 


[54] 


SOLACE 

Has  thy   sun  gone  down? 
Does  the  darkness  frown? 

Is  it  night  in  the  hours  of  day? 
Is  the  light  obscured? 
Does  the  pain  endured 

Make  thee  stumble  in  thy  way? 

There's    a   soothing   thought 
With  a  solace  fraught 

That  may  heal  the  deepest  scars. 
For  the  sun  must  set 
Ere  our  eyes  may  get 

The  light  of  more  distant  stars. 


[55] 


ARISEN 

Arisen!  Arisen  triumphant  o'er  fate; 

Thy    splendor    renewed    at    the    sea's    Golden 

Gate. 
Hail,  brave  San  Francisco,  thou  bravest  and 

best, 

March  on  to  thy  glory  in  front  of  the  west ! 
We  wept   at  thy   sorrow 

And  ever  we  pray 
God  guide  thy  to-morrow 

God  bless  thee  to-day ! 
And  praying  we  pledge  thee  united  to  be 
To  keep  thee  the  Queen  of  the  earth's  greatest 
sea. 


[56] 


THE  WILL 

The  trying  burden  daily  borne 

Is  but  the  task  that  makes  thee  strong; 

But  bear  it  not  from  night  till  morn 
And  thou  canst  bear  it  all  day  long. 

There  are  those  who  in  error  hold 

That  God  intended  some  to  fall 
Beneath  the  load — in  bondage  sold — 

With  none  to  heed  a  helpless  call. 

If  this  be  true  't  would  but  defame 
The  righteousness  and  love  of  God, 

And  in  The  Great  Creator's  name 
Chastise  us  with  a  heavy  rod. 

But  God  hath  placed  within  thy  soul 

A  healing  for  its  every  ill. 
If  thou  shalt  choose  't  will  make  thee  whole, 

'T  is  part  of  Him — it  is  thy  will! 

Bestowing  this  within  thy  hand 

He  delegated  unto  thee 
A  power  like  His  to  thus  command 

In  molding  thine  own  destiny. 


[57] 


THE  CITY  LOVED  AROUND  THE 
WORLD 

The  Pride  of  the  West ! 
The  Gem  of  the  Sea! 
The  City  that  Is! 
The  City  to  Be ! 

Where  the  ship  "Content"  her  sail  has  furled ; 
The  City  Loved  Around  the  World ! 
San  Francisco! 


[58] 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  BELL 

Alone  in  a  quiet,  old  country  town 

At  evening  in  earliest  spring, 
While  sitting  in  front  of  the  quaint  little  inn 

Came  the  sound  of  a  church-bell's  ring. 
'T  is  Wednesday  I  mused  as  the  clear  tones 
pealed 

Throughout  the  long  tree-clad  street, 
And — harking  me  back  in  memory's  ken — 

The  night  that  God's  people  meet. 

As  danced  in  and  out  through  the  arching  trees 

The  silvery  song  of  the  bell, 
The   scenes   quickly   pressed   one   by   one   into 
mind 

That  held  me  secure  in  their  spell ; 
How  each  Wednesday  night  through  my  life 
as  a  lad 

I  was  taught  to  take  up  my  way 
To  the  door  of  a  drab-colored  meeting  house 

Where  sinners  had  met  to  pray. 

So,  spanning  with  thought  the  abyss  between 

My  life  as  now  and  then, 
When  I  went  to  the  little,  drab  meeting-house, 

I  said,  I  will  go  again! 
And  rising,  I  started  with  willing  feet 

To  the  rhythmic  ring  of  the  bell, 
Nor  halted  until  I  had  found  a  seat 

Mid  scenes  I  had  known  so  well. 
[59] 


Now  clearer  and  clearer  my  vision  grew 

Of  a  past  almost  forgot 
In  striving  for  what  we  may  think  avails, 

But  having,  avails  us  not. 
And  hearing  the  voices  these  village  folk 

Were  raising  in  hymns  of  praise 
I  yearned  for  the  days  of  the  long  ago, 

For  days  that  were  better  days. 

The  speeding  years  betwixt  then  and  now, 

The  gods  I  had  worshipped  and  known, 
Have  passed  from  my  thought,  'neath  the  in 
fluence  here 

The  years  and  the  gods  have  flown. 
For  I  know  that  with  all  of  his  failings, 

Though  far  twixt  his  life  and  the  goal, 
The  man  who  sincerely  acknowledges  God 

Is  nearest  the  man  that  is  whole. 

So,  finished  the  song  with  its  worship  of  praise 

And  peace  seemed  pervading  the  air 
As  the  silver-locked  leader  extended  his  hands, 

On  his  lips  invitation  to  prayer. 
I  knew  that  he  meant  it  as  truly  for  me 

As  for  any  who  looked  on  his  face 
And  it  seemed  in  the  tones  of  that  kindly  calm 
voice 

I  could  all  my  young  manhood  retrace. 


[60 


And  now  began  to  vibrate  once  again 

My    heart-strings,    rusted    through    the    long 

neglect 

Of  years,  and  grown  discordant  as  the  strings 
Upon  a  stringed  instrument  unused. 
And  with  each  sentence  of  the  simple  prayer 
The  pastor  offered  in  a  child-like  faith 
I  felt  returning  sight,  as  I  had  seen 
In  matters  spiritual  and  not  discerned 
By  mortal  eye.     The  many  doubts  that  had 
From  far  afield  hung  o'er  me  as  a  cloud, 
And  like  miasmic  poison  caused  to  droop 
And  flicker,  what  was  once  a  steady  flame 
Seemed   now   in    fast   retreat.     And   where    so 

long 

These  doubts  had  held  dominion  I  could  feel 
Exultant  pleasure  in  returning  faith; 
The  simple  faith  I  learned  when  at  the  knee 
Of  Mother,  sweet  as  man  has  ever  known; 
A  faith  that  penetrates  as  sharpened  steel 
Through  every  grief  and  all  perplexity; 
That   will   not,    cannot   swerve   though   locked 

within 

A  body  drawn  and  bent  by  mortal  pain. 
For  simple  faith  is  faith  that  will  abide ! 

As  trusting  child  of  earthly  parent  asks 
The  thing  in  earthly  parents'  power  to  do, 
So  prayed  this  man  a  trusting  child  of  God. 
"Our  loving  Heavenly  Father,  Dearest  Friend, 
[61] 


Whose  mercy  brings  us  at  this  quiet  eve 
With  one   accord  to  kneel  before  thy  throne, 
We  ask  Thee  first,  to  cleanse  our  hearts  from 

guile, 

From  insincerity  and  secret  sin. 
We  here  acknowledge  Thee  in  all  the  way 
In  which  unto  this  night  we  have  been  led, 
And  sad  are  we  our  feet  so  often  stray 
And  in  forbidden  paths  are  wont  to  tread. 
Forgive  us  when  unthinkingly  remiss 
And  pity,  Lord,  when  knowingly  we  sin. 
We  thank  Thee  for  the  blessings  we  enj  oy ; 
For  daily  food,  for  shelter  from  the  storm, 
For  health  and  strength^  for  loving  friends,  for 

all 

We  have  we  thank  Thee,  and  for  all  that  we 
But    for    our    own    shortcomings    might    have 

been. 
For    those    who    wont    to    worship    here    who 

now 

Are  laid  on  beds  of  pain  and  cannot  come 
To  join  their  prayers  with  those  we  offer  Thee 
We  ask  a  soothing  blessing  and  that  Thou 
Wilt  lay  upon  their  ills  a  healing  hand." 

And  now  it  seemed  he  prayed  for  me  alone. 

As  if  he  knew  the  thought  within  my  heart 

Of  hearts.     "But  most   of  all,  dear  Lord,  we 

ask 
That  Thou  wilt  fully  heal  the  sick  of  soul, 

[6ft] 


Who  whether  here  or  elsewhere  carry  deep 
The  self-inflicted  wounds  that  will  not  heal, 
Nor  can  be  cured  except  by  means  of  grace 
That  makes   us   see   our   insufficiency. 
Who,  seeking  surcease,  wander  everywhere 
But  in  the  way  that  leads  them  unto  Thee ; 
Who,  having  ears  yet  seemingly  are  deaf, 
And  having  eyes  are  yet  too  blind  to  see. 
For  him  who  prides  himself  he  always  lives 
Within  the  bounds  prescribed  by  moral  law, 
And  feels  this  all  sufficient,  Lord,  we  pray. 
But  more  we  pray,  Our  Father,  for  the  man, 
Who,  though  he  cherish  well  the  written  law, 
Yet  knows  a  higher  duty  still  remains 
To  be  fulfilled  by  him  and  heedeth  not. 
For  him  who  seeth,  Lord,  and  taketh  not ; 
For  him  who  heareth,  Lord,  and  doeth  not 
We  feel  our  prayers  must  needs  more  fervent 

be 

Because  he  thereby  addeth  sin  to  sin. 
If  such  there  be  within  this  presence  now, 
Then  grant  the  prayer  we  offer  may  be  his, 
And  as  he  passes  forth  into  the  night 
May  every  shining  star  above  his  head 
Reflect  on  him  Thy  glorious  radiancy. 
Yea,  give  to  him  assurance  doubly  sure 
That  he  who  doeth  more  than  must  be  done 
That  men  may  dwell  together  in  accord, 
Shall  feel  Thy  benediction  in  his  soul, 
And  come  into  a  goodly  heritage ; 
And  in  Thy  Name  we  ask  it  all.     Amen." 
[63] 


And  then  a  song  was  borne  on  every  tongue ; 
"Abide  with  me,  fast  falls  the  eventide, 
The  darkness  deepens,  Lord,  with  me  abide. 
When  other  helpers  fail  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  O,  abide  with  me." 

The   prayerful   song   was   done    and   then    the 

words 

Of  benediction  sealed  within  my  soul 
A  blessing  greater  than  could  soul  contain. 
I  hastened  forth  beneath  the  glorious  night 
And  felt  were  I  to  speak  't  would  but  profane 
And  mar  the  eloquence  of  God's  own  voice. 
The  hearing  to  my  soul  so  long  unknown 
Seemed  once  again  returned  and  sensitive 
To  sound  heard  only  in  the  silence,  but 
Whose  mandates  followed  lift  us  far  above 
The  life  of  sordid  gain. 

And  now  beside 

The  loss   of  deafness  came  the  gain  of  sight. 
Of  sight  discerning  spiritually  the   things 
Long  since  forgotten,  or,  if  not  forgot, 
Unheeded  and  as  well  forgot.     For  if 
They  unremembered  be  then  wilful  sin 
May  not  be  added  to  the  sin  that  we 
Commit,  mayhap,  so  often  thoughtlessly. 
For  thus  I  do  affirm  it  my  belief, 
That  when  I  do  an  evil  knowingly, 
Resisting  conscience  struggling  to  be  heard, 
My  guilt  is  greater  far  than  when  I  sin 
[64] 


Unthinking  and  unhearing  conscience  plea. 
But  each  indeed  is  grievous  and  in  each 
I  sin. 

With  sight  and  hearing  full  restored 
I  saw  beneath  the  thin  veneer  that  hides 
The  rough,  uneven  inconsistencies 
That  make  my  days.     I  heard  again  the  voice 
That  once  I  knew  and  followed  in  my  life 
And  felt  anew  thet  restfulness  of  peace 
That  once  was  mine  but  since  was  lost,  and  I 
Content  and  joyful  sought  repose  with  heart 
So  long  discordant  now  attuned  to  God. 


[65] 


THE  SHASTA  DAISY 

If  out  the  past  now  dim  and  hazy, 

Wordsworth,  Burns  or  Chaucer  came, 

They'd  each  immortalize  thy  name 

As  daisies'  queen,  thou  Shasta  Daisy. 

They'd  love  no  less  the  little  mite 

That  Burns'  bright  plowshare  brought  to  sight, 

Or  Wordsworth's  gallant  knightly  one 

Protecting  dewdrop  from  the  sun. 

But  they  would  surely  see  in  thee 

A  daisy's  rich  maturity, 

And,  too,  perchance  might  truly  feel 

Their  singing  of  the  daisy's  worth, 

Caused  sympathy  and  love  to  steal 

In  Burbank's  heart  to  give  thee  birth. 


166] 


THE  SONNET 

A  sonnet?  But  the  cradle  for  a  thought; 
A  golden  setting,  where  the  purest  gem 
Of  truth  may  shine.  A  royal  diadem 

To    crown   the   loftiest   forms   that   men   have 
brought 

Adown  the   heights   of  Helicon.     That   ought 
Be  ne'er  profaned,  nor  even  touched  by  them 
Except  with  awe,   as  was   Christ's  garment 
hem, 

When  poetess  of  old  its  healing  sought. 

O  harp  of  gold,  whereon  could  angels  play, 
'T  would  set  seraphic  melodies  adrift; 
O  chords  made  fit  to  sound  beyond  all  time, 

The  noblest  strains  that  be  in  any  day, 

My    yearning   soul   hath    sought   no    richer 
gift, 

Than  once  to  sound  thy  fullest  power  sublime. 


[67] 


PURIFICATION 

Like  as  the  scudding  spray  when  hurled 
By  mighty  gales  from  ocean's  crest 

Is  driven  far,  by  tempest  whirled, 
And  falls  again  to  ocean's  breast; 

So,  often  we  are  cast  above 

The  bosom  of  life's  stormy  sea 

To  fall  upon  God's  tide  of  love 

When  searching  gales  have  made  us  free. 


[68] 


I'LL  SMILE  MY  GRIEF  AWAY 

The  sun  has  sought  his  resting  place 

Across  the  western  lea ; 
The  herds  are  lowing  in  the  fields 

And  sad  the  heart  in  me. 

The  nighthawk  sounds  his  mournful  note 

Like  wail  of  some  lost   soul 
And  though  the  bells  are  chiming  clear 

I   only  hear  them   toll. 

But,  no!  I'll  cast  from  out  my  heart 
The  thoughts  that  make  me  sad, 

Remembering  the  day  contained 
So  much  to  make  me  glad. 

The  hope  I  cherished  ere  the  sun 

Began  his  course  to-day 
Has  been  fulfilled  unsparingly — 

I'll  smile  my  grief  away ! 


[69] 


ONE  DEAR  DAY 

One  dear  day,  just  one  dear  day 

To  satisfy  hoping  and  longing  of  years ! 

And  when  't  is  gone  I'll  go  my  way 

With  a  last  tender  look  and  a  prayer  God 
hears. 

For  in  days  that  are  coming  the  memory  sweet 

Must  suffice  for  the  hoping  and  longing  I  meet. 

O,  coming  day  thou'rt  doubly  dear! 

I'll  live  in  thee  now  for  to-night  is  thine  eve 
And  with  its  shadow  shall  go  the  fear 

Thy  dawning  and  sunlight  would  surely  re 
lieve. 
At  thy  close  when  I  part  from  thee  sorrowing, 

then, 

Blessed  God,  give  me  strength  to  go  onward 
again ! 


[70] 


INFINITY 

Thou  Great  and  Uncreated  One, 
Whose  fadeless  glory  pales  the  sun, 
What  finite  mind  can  comprehend 
How  love  and  grandeur  in  Thee  blend, 
Who,  never  born,  can  never  end? 

Before  by  aeons  the  nations  were, 
Before  the  world's  foundations  were, 
Or  orbits  laid  through  dizzying  space 
Where  countless  worlds  at  maddening  pace 
Could  strive  in  their  eternal  race; 

Before  Orion,  Pleiades 

And  all  the  host  that  speed  with  these 
Were  on  their  journeys,  never  ending, 
Called  from  space  and  with  the  blending 
Of  equilibrium,  were  lending 

Harmony  to  swell  the  shout 

The  rushing,  thundering  spheres  ring  out 
Projecting  onward,  ceasing  never, 
Thou  wast  then  and  will  be  ever 
Elohim,  Adonai,  Jehovah! 

As  men  Thy  ceaseless  wonders  see 

They  raise  continually  to  Thee, 
Too  often  with  an  outward  show, 
Their  puny  altars  where  the  glow 
Of  Holy  Fire  is  ever  low. 
[71] 


But  more  befitting  would  it  be 

To  Thy  Ineffability 

That  highest  mountain  peaks  be  e'er 
Thine  altars,  their  pure  snows  the  prayer 
Of  those  who  Thy  Great  Name  declare. 

The  clouds  that  melt  in  silent  space 

Be  incense  veiling  o'er  Thy  face 

From  man's  presumptuous   arrogance 
That  lets  him  dare  to  give  offense 
Withholding  from  Thee  reverence. 

But  when  our  inner  souls  rehearse 

The  wonders  of  Thy  Universe 

We  stand  in  awe,  we  worship  Thee, 
With  vision  of  the  soul  we  see, 
With  minds   appalled — Infinity  ! 


[72] 


GOD  IS  LOVE 

I  do  not  see  Thee  in  the  storm 

That  shrieking  through  the  air 
Bombards  the  leeward,  rock-bound  coast, 

Unheeding  black  despair 
Besetting  some  poor  mariner 

Who  still  the  hope  may  cherish 
That  Thou,  in  his  extremity 

Wilt  save  him  lest  he  perish. 

Nor  in  the  earthquake's  awful  shock 

When  souls  are  steeped  in  dread 
Mid  thunderings  that  only  mock 

The  soul  whose  hope  has  fled. 
When  mountains  tremble  to  their  base, 

When  mighty  trees  are  falling 
And  every  quivering  human  face 

Is  blanched  with  fear  appalling. 

I  see  Thee  when  the  canopy 

Of  summer's  dying  day 
Is  settling  to  the  ocean's  crest 

And  faith  holds  fear  at  bay. 
When  minds  are  filled  with  loftier  thought 

And  hearts  with  nobler  aiming 
Than  when  resolve  has  root  in  fear 

And  virtue's  but  the  naming. 


[73] 


I  see  Thee  when  on  mountain  peaks 

I  learn  from  Thee,  my  teacher, 
And  in  the  peaceful  valleys  sleep 

Secure  Thy  weakest  creature. 
When  in  the  nest  the  mother  birds 

Enfold  each  little  dove. 
These  tell  my  soul  as  if  in  words 

That  God,  my  God,  is  love. 


[74] 


YEARS 

Who    reckons    a    love    between    two    by    their 

years  ? 
Who  by  this  same  measure  can  judge  sorrows 

tears  ? 
Does   the   span   of  the   seasons  dissolve  bitter 

hate? 
Then  unheedful  of  time  let  the  heart  find  its 

mate. 
For  the   reck   of  the  days   of  our  years  here 

will  be 
Forgotten  and  lost  in  an  eternity. 


[75] 


THE  FLOWER  IN  THE  WOOD 

There's  an  ecstasy  of  feeling, 

A  superlative  delight, 
A  devotion  that  makes  kneeling 

Follow,  as  the  morn  the  night, 
If  our  natures  see  reflected, 

In  its  mystic,  magic  power, 
The  hand  that  made  the  forest  trees, 

Within  a  forest  flower. 

Yet  count  it  still  a  mighty  hand 

That  built  the  towering  mountains, 
That  fills  the  never  failing  seas 

From  never  failing  fountains. 
But  count  it,  too,  as  fully  great 

A  marvel  that  He  could 
With  that  same  hand  make  exquisite 

A  flower  in  the  wood. 


76] 


AT  MIDNIGHT 

The  darkness,  Lord,  is  on  the  deep, 
My  soul  doth  trust  in  Thee  to  keep 
A  kindly  watch  till  night  has  run 
And  comes  again  the  rising  sun. 

And  yet  I  love  the  midnight  hour 
When  darkness  makes  me  trust  Thy  power, 
When  not  one  ray  of  silvery  light 
May  pierce  the  void  to  aid  my  sight. 

For  all  day  long  'neath  garish  ray 
By  mortal  sight  I  choose  my  way 
And  wander  far  aside  from  Thee 
In  paths  Thou  dost  not  choose  for  me. 

I  look  back  on  the  day  that's  done 
And  forward  to  another's  sun, 
I  ask  forgiveness  for  my  sin 
And  pray  my  better  self  may  win. 

And  so  I  love  this  midnight  hour 

When  darkness  makes  me  trust  Thy  power. 

When  fails  the  help  mine  eyes  afford 

I  needs  must  trust  Thee  most,  dear  Lord. 


[77] 


TO  A  PORTRAIT 

Ah,  the  pity  that  all  neath  the  light  of  the  sun 
Must  fade  like  the  joy  of  a  day  that  is  done. 
And  though  it  enchant  and  enrapture  the 

while 
Must  be  withered  by  time  and  partake  of  the 

vile. 

That  to-day  in  its  beauty  a  flower,  full  blown, 
Gives  its  lips  to  be  ravished  and  then  all  alone 
In  the  breath  of  the  sun  withers  back  to  the 

sod, 
Like   the   mortal   consumed   for   the  love  of  a 

god. 

That  the  leaf  that  has  sighed  as  the  soft  sum 
mer  breeze 

With  a  lingering  kiss  whispered  love  in  the 
trees, 

Must  die  in  its  grief  when  the  lips  have  grown 
cold; 

That  the  breast  that  has  nourished  will  turn 
it  to  mold. 

Ah,  yet  greater  pity  that  all  doth  embrace! 
As  the  flower  and  leaf  so  must  fade  woman's 

face. 
Be  marked  by   the   touch   and  the   ravage   of 

years 

And  watered  again  and  again  by  her  tears. 
[78] 


HAST  THOU  GONE  FROM  ME? 

Hast  thou  gone  from  me,  my  blessed  Poesy, 

Left  me  desolate  upon  the  shore, 
Where  through  days  with  thee  I  dwelt  so  hap- 


Art  thou  gone  from  me  forevermore? 

Doth    my     woe     commence    because     I     gave 
offence  ? 

Gave  I  sorrow  in  some  thoughtless  deed? 
Hath  some  providence  as   evil   recompense 

Willed  my  wounded  heart  again  to  bleed? 

Sad  through  saddened  years  I  shed  my  bitter 

tears, 
Made   my   griefs    but    could   not   make   my 

joys- 
Filled  with  many  fears  and  deaf  to  hope  that 

cheers 
I  filled  the  gold  of  life  with  life's  alloys. 

Then,  as  out  the  sea,  thy  presence  came  to  me, 
Dissolved  the  mist  before  my  blinded  eyes. 

Made  me  long  to  be  through  all  eternity 
Pure  as  prayer  ascending  to  the  skies. 

Blessed  Poesy,  as  now  I  sing  of  thee, 
Comes  again  thy  gentle,  soothing  spell. 

Thou  wilt  constant  be,  as  constant  as  the  sea 
Is  to  the  shore  it  kisses  with  its  swell. 
[79] 


ETERNAL  LIFE 

Eternal  Life — not  merely  endless  state 
That  may  thy  weak  presumption  desolate. 
So,  think  it  not  sufficient,  erring  soul 

To  say  there  is  a  God  who  orders  all. 
The  cloud  from  out  thy  vision  cannot  roll 

Until  thou  knowest  God  and  on  Him  call. 
Then,  in  that  moment,  hath  begun  for  thee 
The  life  that  shall  endure  eternally. 


[80] 


TEMPTATION 

Who  stands  secure  against  the  lure 

That  sore  besetteth  him, 
Hath  builded  deep  and  high  and  sure 

Around  a  chasm  rim. 

But  he  who  yielded  only  once 
Yet  once  again  may  yield. 

He  fights  the  foe  his  life  confronts 
Behind  a  weakened  shield. 

And  yet,  who  yielded  not  at  all 

It  may  be  never  knew 
The  trial  that  made  the  other  fall 

Or  he  had  fallen  too. 


[81] 


A  VALENTINE 

TO    I.    C. 

If  thoughts  are  things 

May  my  thoughts  be 
As  birds  whose  wings 

Fly  fast  to  thee; 

Each  thought  of  thine  be  but  a  nest 
Where  all  my  birds  find  home  and  rest. 


[82] 


WINGS  OF  GRIEF 

When  this  weary  old  world  is   so  full  of  the 
things 

That  may  cause  us  to  sigh  and  to  grieve 
Shall  we  labor  on  foolishly  clipping  the  wings 

Of  the  sorrows  we  cannot  relieve? 

For  grief  hath  the  fast-flying  wings  of  a  bird, 

But  if  resting  on  thee  from  her  flight 
She  will  bide  with  thee  long   at  a  welcoming 

word 

That    hath    robbed   her    swift    wing    of    its 
might. 


[83] 


MY  FRIEND 

TO    M.    P.    B. 

She  was  a  friend  to  me! 
And  I  say  it  not  as  we  idly  speak 
Of  the  strong  who  only  pity  the  weak 
With  never  a  thought  nor  a  wish  to  seek 

To  lessen  the  ills  that  be. 

Hers  was  the  weight  of  years, 
And  a  soul  made  pure  in  their  chastening  fire, 
That  never  a  moment  had  ceased  to  aspire. 
Her  body  grew  weak  but  her  soul  grew  higher 

In  graces  whose  charm  endears. 

Then  her  soul  bid  its  house  adieu. 
As  the  burr  falls  off  the  ripened  nut ; 
As  the  heir  to  a  throne  leaves  a  humble  hut ; 
As  a  seed  dropping  out  from  a  shell  that  was 
shut, 

Her  spirit  departed,  too. 

So  an  revoir,  sweet  Friend! 
You  are  in  the  heavens,  I  know,  to-day. 
The  path  you  have  marked  is  Heaven's  High 
way. 
I'll  walk  in  it,  too.     Perchance  I  may 

Find  you  when  I  reach  the  end. 


[84] 


VB   12024 


73G96G 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


